“We have Pigeon pie at home in the winter,” said Dodo.

“Yes, tame Pigeon pie,” said the Doctor.

“It might have been tame pie and it was very good!  But, Uncle Roy, why did people want to kill these good, food birds when they didn’t care to eat them?”

“It is difficult to say exactly, little girl.  People living in what we call a state of nature, like African savages, or as our American Indians once did, seem to follow Heart of Nature’s law; ’Kill only what ye need for food.’  But many people that are called civilized never think of natural law at all, and having a coarse streak in their natures desire to kill wild things merely for the sake of killing.  It is against such people that laws must be made by those who have more intelligence.

[Illustration:  Mourning Dove]

“Now for your Dove, Nat—­called the Mourning Dove from his mournful ‘coo-o-coo-o!’’

“At first,” said Nat, “when I saw it in the glass case it looked sort of bluish-brown.  But near by it is greenish-brown and gray on top, and its head and neck have bright colors, like what you see on silver that has not been cleaned for some time or the spoon with which you have been eating boiled eggs.”

“We call those colors metallic tints,” interrupted the Doctor, to help Nat out.

“Thank you; that is what I was trying to say.  It is just like what Rap called soap-bubble colors on the Pigeon’s neck, but this Dove has got black specks like velvet on the neck too, and a black band on the tail with white tips to the feathers; underneath it is dull purple and sort of buff, and its feet are red, and it’s about a foot long.”

“That is a fairly good description of a bird whose colors it is almost impossible to put into words.  Do you know anything about this Dove, Rap?”

“I only know it builds such a poor nest that you would think the eggs would drop through the bottom, only they don’t seem to.  There was a nest in the miller’s woods last year, with two white eggs like tame Pigeons’, only smaller, and when they hatched I took one of the squabs home for a pet.  It became very tame, but I had to let it fly because it grew too big and dirty,—­it was like keeping a Chicken in the house.

“The miller said they were mischievous birds, and ate so many oats that he had to sow his field twice over.  Is that true, Doctor, or do they belong to some good guild?”

“They do not eat insects, though they may do a little work as Weed Warriors, and as they are fond of grain they may have helped themselves to some of the miller’s oats; but usually when they feed on the ground they are Gleaners, and they never disturb grain in the ear.  They have many pretty ways, and even though their love-song is sad they are cheerful and happy.  Their ‘coo-oo’ sounds very gentle in the morning chorus, and though the Dove often nests in open woods and gardens, it seems most at home in a quiet place near water; for it is very fond of drinking and bathing.”